


such a dirty mind

by onaji_hoshi



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, porn blog au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onaji_hoshi/pseuds/onaji_hoshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's that one dude Haru follows on tumblr. He's great. He masturbates, records it, and posts the gifs online. Amazing dude, really. He's also hot like a piece of mackerel fresh off the frying pan, and honestly, you don't forget a body like that.</p><p>Especially when said body is changing next to you in a swimming pool locker room.</p><p>Also known as, "Rin has a porn blog" au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Oh, there’s an update_ , Haru realizes after school and suddenly he doesn’t feel like eating out with his friends. He doesn’t tell them that and leave, though; because he’s rather a loner and doesn’t find hanging out as endlessly pleasant as them, yes, but he’s not a rude ass who disappoints his friends because he wants to masturbate.

So he goes out with them, endures Nagisa’s puns (that are weak. Really weak, and he bites the inside of his cheek not to laugh too loud) and the strong smell of a fast food place they visit. He orders ‘the usual’, which means a fish burger, fries and a large cola and makes multiple attempts to focus on them and his friends. Rei tries not to scream while Nagisa is eating his fries like that was the purpose of his life when Makoto asks:

“Haru, are you okay?”

and looks at him with those eyes of a worried golden retriever. Haru fights the urge to tell him the truth and just says that:

“I’m just a bit tired. I’ll go have some water.”

to which Makoto sighs, shaking his head a little in a manner that says, ‘Oh, that Haru’. He lets him pass by and laughs at something Nagisa said while Haru approaches the toilet. He’s done it before. Leaving to the toilet in the middle of something, that is. The other time was by the end of high school, so a good year ago, but still, been there, done that. He shouldn’t be so nervous, he tells himself, but in fact, he’s always been. Or maybe: nervous isn’t a good word. Excited, more like that. To avoid other, stronger words.

He doesn’t even check if the toilet room is empty, and even if it’s not, he’s convinced he won’t make some strange men die like that.

He barges into the first free stall and locks the door, subconsciously expecting someone to say ‘Dude, chill’ or something like that, just like it happened at school, but it seems no one cares. He flips out his phone, thanking gods for putting it in the pocket before, and brings the app back. Then swears, connects to the wifi and brings back the app again.

And it loads. In all its glory. And as always, Haru feels it’s better than everything good he’s ever seen in his life.

A dick.

But it’s not an ordinary, boring dick. No. It is a work of art, perfectly sculpted, properly big, but not like those elephant dicks of white porn actors. Or Makoto’s. As much as he likes Makoto, he wouldn’t suck his cock. He is like his brother, after all (Makoto, not his dick). While this one? He’d even pay.

The cock is the center of the gif (and also the universe), but it’s not all; the person on it is stroking their cock lightly, just with tips of fingers, other hand playing with their nipple. The best nipples in the whole world, Haru has decided a long ago; and it's true, for gods’ sake. The person’s skin is a bit darker than most of the people Haru kows have, but it only makes it better. There aren’t many pics in colour and the original poster justifies it with privacy reasons (‘contrary to popular beliefs i dont want random ppl to recognise me and order thirty pizzas/dildos on my account wwwwwww’) but from the two, three ones that Haru sees he can draw a conclusion that that person’s nipples are pretty close to the colour of chocolate. Brown and hard like pebbles, they remind Haru of chocolate kisses. That is the stupidest and cheesiest comparison ever and Haru doesn’t even like sweets that much, but, really. Nipples. Basically, everything. That person is a deity.

That person is an owner of a blog Haru has been following for a year -- and the one and only reason he locked himself in a toilet stall in the middle of an after school eating out. Theoretically they are a boy, the blog states his nickname is Marco, but it’s so idiotic that Haru doesn’t want to use it, never in his life. It sounds like a name of a porn star (it doesn’t help it’s written in katakana, so if he decided to be really stubborn he could say Maruko), and that person is… is an artist. Haru can’t help thinking of porn as of something gross, in and out, boring moans, nothing interesting or unpredictable -- while that blog is exciting and even though it’s just a man showing off his -- outstanding, yes, but -- body, Haru can’t stop that feeling that there’s something innocently perverted in that. In a way that is also glorious, saint, amazing. This person, for more than a year, has been posting nudes. And gifs. Of their own naked body. Aroused. Haru’s seen practically everything from plain jacking off through lingerie (he still gets very, very flushed everytime he remembers that one time that person posted a photoset of themself in ecru lingerie) to fingering and dildos.

He studies the gif carefully, as if there was some deeper meaning in it. There probably is, at least for Haru, he has a habit of studying every picture like this, to make sure of his feelings -- or maybe ‘bodily reactions’ would be a better description here. The gif loops and loops and he’s still sitting on the closed toilet and looking at it as if he was an orthodox believer praying to a holy picture. The quality of the gif isn’t the best; it’s grainy in the darker places and a bit too blurry for Haru’s liking, but it’s either resized by the site (or/and the app) or taken with an average camera. The amount of sexual desire Haru feels for that person is infinite, but it still doesn’t mean he’s blind and every time he notices such things, he can’t help but wince. I would choose a better angle, he thinks and now he really can’t help it; the image of actually being there, filming is stronger than his will, or lack of it. He clutches his phone and imagines himself sitting next to the bed with a camera.

That person is lying on the bed, stark naked with their skin like brown silk. He can’t imagine the face, but he guesses it’s a young person, rather young, with short cropped hair and thick eyebrows. Thick eyebrows are lovely, just like their cock, so at first he plays with the camera a bit, while that person is being pretty and sensual on white sheets. Then, he carefully puts the camera away and makes his hands busy with something else.

“Hey”, that person says, bending their knee and rubbing their foot against the sheets, “Shooting first. This way we’ll never finish it.”

Haru rubs the head, enjoying a quiet moan from them. Then he gets an idea. “No”, he says, “I think that way will be better.” He pauses and keeps on rubbing, as if it wasn’t a cock in his hand but a lucky pen. “More interesting.”

“Oh my”, that person sighs and shakes their head. Then they fix their position from lying to a half-sitting one and watches Haru do his job.

Haru picks up the camera, turns the screen to himself and sets it on that person’s stomach. It’s still not enough, so he moves it further. “Would you mind holding it like this?”, he asks, demonstrating, and they just nod. “I think it’ll shake a bit, though”, that person adds, shrugging.

“I know”, Haru says. He takes a quick look at the camera screen, makes sure the cock is visible and his face (most of it) isn’t. And licks the head.

That person inhales sharply and so does the real Haru, the one sitting on the toilet, and the vision has to stop. _You fucked up_ , Haru thinks and wonders if he’s been in there long enough for the others to start worrying. He never knows when it comes to that person.

His pants feel too tight for him to just try and think about something else so he puts the phone in his other hand and unzips his pants, then takes out his cock. Thankfully there’s no precum, otherwise he’d have to stuff toilet paper into his pants because he really, really hates wet clothes.

The gif loops calmly again and again while he methodically, carefully gets himself off.

 

 

* * *

 

  
He figures out he’s gay during his second year of high school. It’s not via a kiss, or a crush that would ruin his heart every day until the graduation, not an one night stand but a walk down the street. He and Makoto are coming back from school and, because Haru decided to make dinner, they decide to drop by a market. Haru is standing in front of the fridge, wondering if he should buy more cheese or less cheese, when a low, pleasant voice says ‘Excuse me’. It belongs to the most handsome man Haru has ever seen and while he moves away to let the man through, he can’t help but stare at his face. Their eyes meet and Haru feels warmth rising inside him, hears himself taking a breath like he was a vacuum cleaner, sees the light from the fridge change on the man’s face as he moves. It all sounds like a scene from a romantic anime series and the man must have noticed the way Haru looked at him, because he turns away a few times when he’s walking away, but Haru doesn’t really care. He’s pretty sure he’s just felt sexual attraction.

Wait, am I gay, he thinks, then decides on more cheese and continues shopping.

When he’s back at home, he makes dinner with Makoto -- and it means Makoto stirs the pasta -- and they eat together. Then they do their homework and Makoto leaves, thanking him and promising to share his lunch tomorrow. Then Haru has time; then he lies on the bed in the dark and looks at the ceiling, silent. He thinks for a while and turns the computer on; he’s on a mission. _Homosexuality --  romantic attraction, sexual attraction or sexual behavior between members of the same sex or gender_. It doesn’t really explain anything, so Haru decides to test it out in nature.

The amount of gay porn in the internet is surprising, just as its variety. He doesn’t like most of the men shown in the videos -- white men are too meaty, necks redder and thicker than his waist, while some Japanese actors are so tiny their waists are thinner than his thighs. But there also are some men he likes enough to finish the video, and somewhere in the process he gets rid of his pants and sits cross-legged in front of the computer. Low moans and panting makes his mouth dry. That day he sees more cocks than he’s ever have as a high schooler and he quite likes it, so he decides to check if he also swings the other way. He’s never really paid attention to people as romantic objects, neither boys nor girls; he’s probably felt something sexual, but because he was rather introverted and busy with drawing, he rarely gave it any thought. So he opens a new tab, types in the same address and picks videos with girls in it. The problem is -- he is interested. Yes. But in an artistic way, probably. Some girls are really pretty, with their proportional bodies and long, straight hair, but they moan loud and high-pitched and it sounds less like pleasure and more like… displeasure. Haru doesn’t know how to put it. The form of those videos is different -- girls are fucked not by men, but by some anonymous cocks with a body connected to it. Haru wants to see those bodies, but from what he managed to catch, they’re not meant to be attractive. Beer bellies, thick hands, small cocks. There’s nothing in it that’s attractive for Haru. So most of the videos is supposed to only show women being fucked. There are a few videos where the man is visible, but Haru’s been looking for them for so long that he doesn’t even feel curious anymore. He clicks on the video. It’s mostly focused on the girl.

Wait, Haru thinks.

And then he realises looking for -- and at -- men in straight porn is probably a sign he is at least a bit gay.

Until now, he’s been pretty comfortable with having no girlfriend or being a virgin. Masturbation is enough. But now he kind of wants more. He kind of wants to watch those men with cocks and muscles fuck each other. That’s kind of amazing.

And one day when he’s -- not ‘kind of’ anymore, just plainly very, really, terribly -- aroused and hard and unable to give up on searching something he could honestly jack off to, he finds that blog. Of course not directly; he sees a gif on a nsfw blog. It is a gif of a dildo -- a really pretty one, he thinks -- slowly slipping out of someone’s ass. Haru has never seen something like that before. Of course it’s something shocking or unimaginable, but he can’t take his eyes off of it. The gif loops and loops and finally Haru manages to scroll down and looks at the caption. It says ‘byon~g ✿’.

He stares at the caption, feeling as if he was empty and something was crawling up his throat; then he feels a strange tension in his cheeks. He realises what it is seconds before it all erupts and he lets out a barking laugh. He quickly covers his mouth with a hand; even though he’s home alone, he’s still not used to laughing, even -- to the sound of his laugh. It feels weird, like someone moved all furniture in his house by three centimetres to the left. But it is a fact that someone has decided to put a cute sound effect under a gif of a dildo slipping out of an ass, and if there’s something he could call his sense of humour, it would be this. As in, not necessarily dildoes, asses and sound effects. More like things that seemingly don’t go well together until you see them together and realise that well, they actually do.

And then he clicks on the source of the gif and -- and he’s gone. The theme is surprisingly pretty, it looks more like an aesthetic blog, the one with monochromatic photos of flowers and young people in sweaters, but it’s actually full of nsfw pictures and gifs. Really nsfw. It seems they’re all of one and the same person and after ten minutes of browsing, staring in holy awe Haru clicks on ‘about’ page and finds out that ‘greetings my friends call me marco thank you very much for visiting this blog and looking at my dong’. There he snorts and covers his mouth again. That person seems fun. They have a sense of humour, nice, well sculpted body (are they in a sports club? It must be a young person, they’re using cute emoji and slang), non-invasive way of writing.

Haru decides to stay for a bit -- and in next two hours, he realises that person is not only physically appealing, but also uses all kinks he knows and doesn’t know he has. Maybe it’s because of their body -- as they say, a pretty person looks pretty no matter what they wear -- but when they wear lingerie or high heels or stockings, Haru’s lower torso does that weird thing that also resonates in his chest. Sometimes he visits their blog during lunch break and just browses; once he almost murders Makoto like that. Makoto must have seen only the name of the folder he saves the gifs in and one days he asks if he could check something, because he saw Haru browsing something about recipes and he’d like to cook something simple today. So Haru says yes, yet unable to connect the dots, and maybe ten second later, Makoto screams.

The joke is: Haru saves pictures of that person in a folder called ‘recipes’.

After all it’s obvious he wouldn’t call it ‘gay one person porn’, right? Especially since he sometimes gives the phone to Nagisa to play some games. Nagisa isn’t interested in any recipes at all.

Makoto screams, Rei’s face turns scarlet, Nagisa just says ‘Woah’ and that’s how they learn their friend is gay. Rather impressively gay.

“I know you probably think it’s weird, but--”, he explains to Rei, who’s the only one who wants to listen, “I think he’s an artist. I mean, the angles and quality can be fixed, but have you seen his--”

“I HAVE!”, Makoto shrieks, uncovering his face for a moment. He is bright red. “It almost hit me in the face!”

Haru knows no mercy.

“You know, it’s very popular in the videos”, he says and Makoto deflates, “If it’s any comforting to you -- both gay and straight videos.”

 

 

* * *

 

  
In the end, he comes, puts the phone away to his pocket, washes his hands and goes back to their table. Nagisa laughs at him (‘Haru-chan, I thought you drowned there!’), to which he repeats that he had to have some water and they shake their heads. He doesn’t mind, though. Some people would think it’s humiliating, to have people shake their heads and roll their eyes at you, but he doesn’t. There are some things people roll their eyes at, not even knowing why, so he can let them. He is a bit too enthusiastic about water, but Nagisa has troubles with acne and Makoto is scared of gays. Rei has such a bad luck that it’s a rude thing to even think about it.

Two times a week he swims in a pool. He wants to avoid big, noisy recreational pools. He is renting a small flat in that part of Tokyo that looks relatively normal, not flashy and crowded and Tokyo-like, and has managed to find a decent small pool that lies next to a sports school. It has only a twenty five metres pool and tiny red bleachers. Haru likes having a routine, so if the teacher tells him to redo his work or there’s something unpleasantly surprising, he comes to the pool and swims his nervousness away. He buys a ticket for one hour, changes quickly and swims as long as he can. At first after getting out of the pool he can barely move, legs shaking like he was made of jelly, but later he gets used to it and learns to gain irrational pleasure from this feeling of being worn out. He can barely breathe and walk, but it’s amazing. And he’s half naked. He wonders if sex feels similar.

Today he goes swimming as well. He waits a bit after coming back home from the fast food place, sits around a bit and dabbles in his watercolours until it’s around three hours until the pool closes. He takes a long shower and masturbates, thinking about that person standing behind him, and leaves. He is in the bus when he remembers to check if he took everything he should take and it’s probably only sheer luck that he did. He gets off the bus, walks to the pool and buys a ticket for one hour, as usual. It’s a weekday and it’s late, so there pool is almost empty; there are five other people in the pool, three of them being young women using one lane. He picks the sixth one and gets in; first does some stretching exercise by the edge, then starts swimming. Slowly but surely, as there’s nothing, no one to race. His hands pierce through water like music through the air. He breathes; one, two, three… He’s at home.

He only swims front crawl, it’s a stroke that seems the easiest, the least complicated one. Not so slow like breaststroke, not so weird like backstroke, not so fanciful like butterfly; just right. He takes some breaks; not even him can endure swimming for forty minutes straight. Sometimes he uses those breaks to rest a bit, sometimes he performs additional exercises. When there’s ten minutes to the end of his ticket, he stops swimming and leaves the pool, regretting a bit there’s no jacuzzi or water jet. Shower will have to do.

He takes off his jammers first and washed them under the warm stream of water, when he’s done, it still smells faintly of chlorine, but it’s okay enough for people not to avoid his seat in the bus like he was contagiously ill. Then he puts it aside on a hanger and washes his body carefully; chest, torso and legs, armpits, even balls and anus, then finally hair. Hair is always the most problematic and while the smell of pool isn’t unpleasant for him, he doesn’t like people scrunching their noses and asking if he swims, so he makes a mental note to wash them again later after coming back home.

When he’s changing, he figures going to a market wouldn’t be a bad idea and wonders what could he make. He is hungry, so it wouldn’t be wise to go shopping without a plan, especially while being a financially independent art student. Especially since the money he made during his gap year don’t seem to be an endless source. He thinks for a short while, then decides to just drop by the closest convenience store and buy a ready-made bento.

People that are there besides him are changing back to their clothes, but the door open and Haru hears someone going in, thanking the lady at the desk loudly and laughing. He doesn’t find it particularly interesting and doesn’t turn to see who it is -- something a man a few lockers away does, with a displeased face, and mutters something about ill-mannered brats who have to mess with girls even at the pool. Haru also doesn’t find it understandable, but then -- he’s gay. Messing with boys, he’d understand.

They change in silence, aside from two elderly men chatting quietly in an elderly person way, but suddenly he hears a surprised yelp.

“I-I thought it was mine!”, pants a boy that looks no older than a junior high student, red-faced and apparently caught red-handed.

“My phone?!”, is the answer, but the boy doesn’t quite hear it as he’s probably deep in the hallway right now, running wildly. The man groans under his breath and puts his phone in the locker, the man next to Haru mutters something about ill-mannered young thieves (but also ill-mannered playboys deserving that), but Haru doesn’t care. He’s fully changed and freezes in the act of closing his locker, mouth dry, looking at the man whose phone almost got stolen, who’s currently removing his skinny jeans, bending in a effortlessly attractive way. With his butt shapely, back muscled, skin darker than anyone in the room has.

Rei would say it’s one hundred percent illogical -- and he would agree with him with all his heart. Chances that two random people in the internet would meet by accident are really low, oscillating somewhere around zero. Chances that he’s hallucinating because of fatigue are higher, even though it sounds ridiculous. More than that -- it’s really rare to recognise someone by their body. Not the face, but body. It helps a bit that Haru has an artistic soul and it’s his nature to look at people. He knows Makoto’s skin tone, Nagisa’s moles and bruises (he often manages either to walk into something or to injure himself in a different way) or Rei’s body hair. Not only because he’s drawn them all and it was really tough to make Makoto agree (Nagisa is ready to strip just as he asks him to model, while Rei says he’d have to shave a bit and get a scrub. Haru shoots him a look).

The point is, he can recognise his friends’ bodies. Same for some models he’s drawn. But that is only ‘can’, something neutral. Something he definitely can recognise, even woken up in the middle of night, even drunk, or drugged, or all at once -- there is only one thing like that. And because he doesn’t have a boyfriend, lover, friend with benefits, someone like that -- it’s obviously the person who has given him a similar amount of bliss any of the above would. Bliss both physical and not.

And it’s him.

Fucking Marco.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *turns into a shrug emote and stay like that forever*
> 
> I know what you're thinking -- this fic is gonna be long, complicated and full of surprising plot twists. Huh? That's not what you... okay, you got me, it's not. They're gonna fuck a lot and fall it love, but hey let's pretend you don't know this, aye?
> 
> I have no idea why I was so stubborn to write this fic in present tense, but I was, so if there's something weird, tell me. It turns out present tense is easier in your native language.
> 
> This chapter was sponsored by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BR2JtsVumFA).
> 
> Next chapter of this wondrous story shall include a/ Rin and most probably his b/ cock. Yay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The year is 2095. Hisa still hasn't updated SADM.
> 
> Yeah, almost.
> 
> First of all, I'm REALLY sorry for five months of not updating; as cruel as it sounds, for me, tmos > sadm and I've decided the former is first in line if it comes to writing/updating. It's not like I updated a lot, orz. 
> 
> Anyway! Here it is, a chapter. Sadly, it does not, in fact, have a cock inside. Not even one, if we don't count Haru's thoughts. Haru's thoughts always feature at least one cock. So, uh, let's get this going before I get too... cocky.
> 
> ...shit, I'm sorry, that was a horrible one. I'm sorry. Shit.

Haru finally understands the pain of adolescence.

Except it’s not the time for that, because he is not a teenager. He is an university student, serious and beautiful, or something like that, as Rei said. University students are graceful and dignified, that is what Rei also said. If Nagisa let him talk more, he would probably say university students don’t make weird sounds or drop things out of shock.

Haru does exactly that.

He absentmindedly reaches towards his locker, out of habit, eyes still stuck to that -- wondrous!! -- torso, except he misses and ends up hitting the other locker, which closes loudly. The person (because Haru still refuses to use that dumb nickname) turns around and looks straight into Haru’s eyes, and it’s probably an accident, but Haru blushes anyway, brightly like a teenager caught on masturbating by his mother. He wants to say ‘sorry’, or something like that, and looks down politely, like he probably should or something, for disturbing the silence, but he forgot a certain important fact.

Somewhere below the face, there are the nipples.

And he sees the nipples, and it’s just like in the movies: war flashbacks, life flashing in front of your eyes, so on. In his case it’s not life, it’s all the gifs he can remember of said nipples being squeezed and fondled, and instead of an apology, what he says is:

“Bzdfklgh”

and he collects his things and makes a really determined beeline to the desk in the hall, where he gives away the key to the locker and heads to the exit. And then--

It’s a swimming pool, he realises. People… swim here. He just swam here. He even paid for it. So obviously no one will be against it, if he decides to hang out at the bleachers for a bit. Right? Especially since he’s an university student.

Haru sits on a small bench next to a big window that takes almost the entire wall. He can see the pool from there, and, what is logical, also the people who enter and leave it. So also logically, that person should also arrive in a minute or two (unless they didn’t plan to swim but, for example, take some new material in the changing room. That would be possible and Haru would really appreciate that, to be honest).

He sits patiently and waits. He doesn’t have to pay attention so much; after all it’s late and that person is one of the last visitors, if not the last one. There are also people who have either joined in shortly before Haru left, or have a special pass letting them stay as long as they can. A woman swims a calm, elegant front crawl while an elderly man pierces through water in a perfect butterfly. There are also two girls who play around more than swim, stopping to chat after every lap and drying off their goggles.

Then, maybe because the glass is thin, or because the door to the bleachers is right away and wide open, Haru hears a soft sound of feet on the wet floor and there he is, nodding to a guard (!!!, Haru thinks, does it mean he’s a regular there?) and doing some stretching exercises (Haru does his best, but can’t help licking his lips, not because that person is so hot, and licking lips at hot people is dumb as hell, in fact, but because his mouth went dry) before getting in the pool. At first he does some slow laps free to warm himself up more, then gets out of the pool and heads to the starting blocks. He is fast, way too fast for recreational swimming. Is he in a swimming club, preparing for a tournament? But then he wouldn’t come so lately. Though to be honest, he looks more like he’s racing someone. Haru thinks for a minute that it would be an interesting experience to swim in the lane next to him, and then he pulls out a sketchbook.

He always carries a small A5 notebook, just in case he finds something good to draw, and this is a good occasion to use it; he’s always had a good eye for details and could also see the whole picture, so after some minutes he begins to sketch. It’s not easy, of course, and he doesn’t draw a full picture, but watches for a while, observing the way that person’s arms move in and out of the water and feels he has a broader idea on how it all works.

He’s never thought, to be honest, about drawing that person. They were always a work of art for him, and he doesn’t have a habit of copying or trying to make works of art better. But now he sees them, with his actual eyes, in actual, real life, not on the screen of his phone or laptop at night or in a toilet stall in McD bathroom. His head is spinning a bit; how should he react? What should he do? It might be his chance. Chance to what, he prefers not to think about, but still -- if he ignores it and just lets them finish swimming, change and leave, he might lose something more than just an occasion to ogle his glorious ass live in HD.

Without thinking, he pulls out his phone and trying to get the best angle without looking suspicious, he takes a short video, just in time, because one lap later, that person switches from front crawl to butterfly. Haru doesn’t have much time to appreciate their form, though, because he’s suddenly being approached by a guard. She’s not much tall, but is muscled enough; Haru can see she’s really tired and he even feels a bit sorry for causing trouble, whatever he did.

“I’m sorry”, she says in a perfect ‘I’m really sorry, but you fucked up’ voice, “but we don’t permit taking photos or filming here. Also…”, she looks even more guilty, “we’re closing soon, so…”

Oh, Haru thinks. Since she doesn’t say this to the visitors, he guesses it’s okay to swim late; but he is something else, a person on the bleachers, so she’s probably wondering what is he doing here. And if he’s a stalker.

“I’m very sorry”, he says, carefully picking the words, “I’m an art school student and I’m currently working on anatomy. I was just about to leave, but then I saw this person”, Haru pointed at that person with his chin, “and… Of course I will leave if it’s necessary, but in fact, I’ve never seen more well-proportioned person.”

“Ah, Matsuoka-kun”, the guard’s face lightens up and she smiles knowingly, “Yes, he’s been coming here for… one and a half year? Or maybe two? He studies English, but you’d think he’s a professional model, right?”

You have no idea, Haru thinks.

“I mean!”, the guard says, blushing softly. She probably thinks about the rule about not sharing private information and her eyes fill with slight terror. “That’s… I…”

“It’s okay”, he says, “I don’t plan on using that information in any way.” Besides, I wouldn’t know how, he adds in his thoughts. Besides, I don’t really care about this.

“Besides”, he says, “he looks more like a sportsman to me. Too muscled for a swimmer, but maybe something else.”

The guard makes a impressed noise. “You trained sports?”

Haru nods. “I was in a swimming club in high school. I liked it.” He has no idea why he’s telling her this, but he continues anyway. Maybe this will make her say something more about that-- Matsuoka-kun. “But… I guess I was too good at it for it to be a hobby. Teachers, parents, even my friends had expectations. And… Art isn’t as fun, but at least there’s less pressure if I focus on the technique.”

He blushes, realizing he’s said too much. Why would that random guard want to listen to him? But it’s already too late.

“Oh”, she says, nodding, “then you’d have something to talk about. He used to swim too.” Then she blushes as well and covers her mouth. “Okay, now-- now that’s really too much. I don’t think I should talk about those things to you, especially since you haven’t met yet…”

Well, damn, Haru thinks.

Meanwhile, Matsuoka-kun emerges out of the water and Haru can’t help it -- he looks like a water goddess, or a mermaid, or something like that, but then the goddess pouts, takes off his goggles and shakes the water out of them, then looks at them, most probably judging. Haru always has a bottle of anti-fogging agent with him, because yes, swimming without goggles is doable but not pleasant at all, but he doubts it would be considered normal if he just fished it out of his bag and gave it to Matsuoka-kun like he was a promotion campaign person.

Instead he does nothing and just looks at him swimming, lap after lap, in silence. The guard smiles to him (is it an act of support? or ‘don’t stay too long’?) and leaves to do her duties, and Matsuoka-kun is still swimming. Haru wants to tell him that. Hey, he’d say. I don’t want to disturb you, but you’re swimming for too long. It’s troublesome for the pool staff, and you won’t have time to change. But maybe Matsuoka-kun would shrug and say, Nah, I have a long-time ticket, I can swim all the time? Haru doesn’t know and feels really uncomfortable. It’s almost a pity that the guard left. He could have told her that.

I don’t really know about it, but for some reasons I’m scared. Let’s say I know him, but he doesn’t know me. I’m not a stalker, that’s just how it is. But I have a feeling -- fifty-fifty probability, let’s say -- that if I talk to him, or even look at him, I might do something wrong and he’d hate me or delete himself off the internet. It’s a really delicate matter.

He put the pencil down, then after a while -- back into his pencil case and put it again in his bag. What if Matsuoka-kun isn’t interested? What if he’s one of those people who think that if they have a thousand of followers, they’re already famous? What if he thinks Haru is a stalker? What if… and so on.

Finally Matsuoka-kun gets out of the pool, and that’s when Haru also leaves the bleachers and, right after Matsuoka-kun vanishes in the changing room, slips out to the hall.

 

* * *

 

Salmon. Shrimps. Salmon…? Salmon! Sal-- shrimps. Salmon?!

Haru wants to scream.

He’s never met a person who would ponder so long over sea food. Of course he likes seafood himself, but he is fairly easy to please: salmon, mackerel, thanks. But this one? He’s obviously struggling. And therefore makes it hard for Haru to hide behind the fridge and look at him.

Matsuoka, I would kill a person to lick your toes, but you suck, and not in a sexual sense, at shopping.

“Is this salmon stale?”, he asks in the end, very politely, doing his best not to look like he’s just jumped out from behind the closest fridge (which he pretty much did).

Matsuoka jumps and almost drops the shrimps; he turns around, sees Haru (oh god oh god those eyes he has eyes he has such eyes) and blinks rapidly. “I-I’m sorry, I’ll--”

“No, no”, Haru shakes his head, presenting a beautiful form of friendly patience. He’s never been the person to do it. Normally if someone was doing this, he wouldn’t do a thing. Maybe he’d say ‘Excuse me’ if he really needed the salmon. But now he has a purpose, and said purpose is: Matsuoka-kun. “It’s okay.”

He doesn’t really know what he means by this, to be honest; he doesn’t really want to date him (he doesn’t really want to date anyone) or have a quickie (same), at least at the moment. For some reasons he just wants to get to know him. What does he have for breakfast? What university does he go to? Has he had someone in the past? Is he a good kisser? Does he prefer Cola or Pepsi?

Matsuoka swallows (Haru is amazed, purely amazed) and his lips form something that Haru often sees on Makoto; a shy, sorry-I’m-afraid-I-have-no-idea-what-I’m-doing smile. “I rarely cook seafood, and…”

Haru blinks. Matsuoka doesn’t look like someone who could afford rich meat suppers every day, but it seems the first impression lies; and who could possibly start a blog like this if not a bored boy from a rich family?

“Well”, he says carefully; careful to sound casual and careful to keep the conversation as long as he can, just for the sake of it, just to hear that voice and be able to imagine it later, “in that case, I think salmon is easier to prepare, while the shrimps are more… I don’t know, but I’d say you’d rather make shrimps with something more expensive, like wine...”

“Oh, salmon all the way then”, Matsuoka-kun says quickly and puts the fillet in the cart. He raises his head to Haru and smiles sheepishly. “Uh, as a student I try to save as much money as I can and not spend everything in one night, but still, I’d rather spend my salary on cinema or something like that than on food. That would suck, kind of…” He trails off and giggles nervously and Haru feels the urge to kiss him, right here, right now, surrounded by the smell of frozen seafood and sound of working fridges. “Uh, sorry, you’re probably busy or…”

Haru shakes his head. “Not really.” He sneaks another glance at Matsuoka and this time his eyes wander a bit lower; his shirt is pretty tight on his chest. He remembers all the times he browsed his blog, thinking about sucking his nipples and feels his face grow hot. Matsuoka looks at him, slightly panicked, and asks what’s going on, to which he replies something about being a bit cold and they move from the fridges to the other lane.

“You don’t look like a vegetarian, though”, Haru says, trying to put in words that feeling he’s had since he saw Matsuoka in the locker room; and he has to pick something as boring as this, he has to look like a foodie, otherwise he’d probably scare Matsuoka off. Probably.

Haru has a feeling ‘Your photos have given me more orgasms in two months than I have to myself with my hand in two years’ would scare anyone off, though.

Matsuoka makes an apologetic face and rubs his nape. “I’m kind of shocked I look like anything”, he says and gives that shy smile again, and Haru fights the urge to sigh dreamily, “I mean, usually I’m busy either with university or part-time work, so I have no time to cook properly and eat lots of unhealthy food, so I go swimming, and then I have even less time, so, uh, you see how it goes.”

Yeah, Haru thinks, and yet you have the time for the blog. This is commitment!

They talk for a while and Haru finds out it’s actually quite pleasant. Even though the topic isn’t the most interesting thing ever, it’s nice. Matsuoka talks about his grandmother’s kaiseki with such love in his eyes that Haru can’t help but smile and tell him about his grandma’s miso soup, and Matsuoka’s eyes glitter like marbles; then it goes pretty fast and they’re talking about Matsuoka’s translations, Haru’s studies (‘Wow, arts? You must be damn good, I’m jealous!’, to which Haru felt a weird pang of something undescibable in his chest that also made him want to embrace Matsuoka and kiss his forehead) and the perks of having flatmates (Haru) and a dog (Matsuoka) and soon they’re outside the market, going the same way thanks to Haru’s ‘I don’t go this way but it’s close enough’.

Matsuoka has a lovely smile and the longest lashes Haru has ever seen on a being other than a giraffee and he thinks it’s weird, kind of, how he had to learn the body by heart first to be granted such a prize as seeing Matsuoka’s face. It doesn’t really add, though; when he looks at that mischevious eyes and freckled nose, he doesn’t fully understand who he’s looking at. In the end, of course, he does accept that yes, this person called Matsuoka vel Maruko has a dog, translating part-time job and a dragon dildo, but it’s hard. He knows he should have came to terms with it sooner, because he himself has been mistaken for a girl on internet (but then, who would go by a nickname ‘harururu’) and he wasn’t so surprised when the author of explicit gay porn comics has turned out to be a sweet high school girl from Kansai who loves scottish folds; yet the fact that he’s standing in front of the person of his -- literally -- dreams is kind of… dazzling.

And everything goes smooth and cool until Matsuoka says,

“And to think it’s all because of a salmon”, and looks sweetly first at his grocery bag, then at Haru and Haru feels honoured even though he’s probably just as high in Matsuoka’s hierarchy as said salmon. “Well, today I guess I’m frying it, but from tomorrow on, I’m saving for a hugeass dinner. Like, kaiseki. I’m gonna buy it and invite my friends and they’re gonna…” He thinks what word to choose and finishes after a while, “...eat it! And it’s gonna be the best.”

“I hope you’ll succeed”, says Haru.

Except no, he doesn’t. It is, though, a good thing to say, as opposed to what Haru actually says.

“If you want it so much, then put a donation button on the blog. I’m pretty sure it’ll take less time than it’d take if you were to save money on your own.”

Matsuoka laughs; giggles, in fact, and for a while Haru manages to gulp down the feeling also known as ‘wait, I think I fucked up”.

And then the laugh dies on his lips and he looks at Haru with empty eyes. Haru stops breathing.

“What blog”, Matsuoka says, eyes widening in what he probably means to be surprise, but to Haru it’s clearly horror.

“Gh”, Haru chokes out, terrified as well; terrified of what Matsuoka is going to do, while Matsuoka’s face looks like the range of emotions he’s experiencing is similar to the one of a typical soap opera character. The grocery bag slowly slips out of his hand, which is very dramatic and very ridiculous, but Haru is more busy realising this is probably the end of their, rather short, but still, relationship.

“How… I…” Matsuoka’s voice is trembling, probably with anger, but Haru can’t help but think it sounds like he’s going to cry. “I can’t believe such a… you are a stalker!”

Talk about dramatic, Haru thinks with the last part of his calmness standing alive, somewhere between internally giggling at Matsuoka calling him such a you and bitterly regretting everything he’s done that day. “I’m not”, he says, instinctively folding his arms on his chest, “I just saw you at the pool and--”

“And followed me there!?”, Matsuoka hisses, “I’m sorry, but that sounds exactly like stalking!”

Haru rolls his eyes. “I don’t think I even look like a stalker”, he says, and before Matsuoka manages to finish his ‘No stalker looks like a stalker!’, he starts again. “And okay, maybe I’ve been following you for a long time, but it’s not just mindless, okay? I can appreciate good filming.”

“Filming”, Matsuoka repeats stupidly.

“Filming”, Haru agrees. “Even though it looks a bit amateurish sometimes, your framing is pretty good. Do you have someone who films it or…?”

Matsuoka reddens rapidly and covers his face, leaving only his eyes visible. “How… How can you even ask about such things?!”

“You don’t?”, Haru asks and suddenly he feels lighter, because he has an idea, a Great Idea that probably will turn out to be the stupidest one he’s ever had tomorrow, but right now it’s worth three Nobel prizes, “So what about--”

Matsuoka gasps, actually gasps. “Did you just--- oh my god. You-- I can’t believe. I cant believe, I literally can’t believe how gross--”

“Hey!”, Haru says, raising his hands, even though Matsuoka is just being overdramatic, “I’m not gross. I’m just an artist.”

“A gross artist, then! Did you really expect me to just cheerfully agree and invite you over? What else? Lay down on a bed and close your eyes?”

Haru furrows his brows, actually surprised. “I thought you prefer pornography over nudes?”

“What’s the--”, Matsuoka grimaces, as if he was trying to discipline himself, “Nevermind. Who cares. I just still don’t believe you could even think that.”

“I know”, Haru says, a bit tired, “You repeat it all the time. The difference between one and the other is very easy to understand. I could explain you”, he adds, hoping he’s sounding tempting enough. “Oh”, he says after a while and Matsuoka is giving him an even meaner look than before, which seems like something impossible, “and I could. How do they say it… Evolve as an artist?”

“More like improve”, Matsuoka frowns, “Don’t change the topic! I-- You… you’re extremely self-confident, you know?” And because he must be aware it sounds weak, he adds, “You not only dare to request such things, but also try to make profits off it? You’re really--”

“Okay, I get it”, Haru says; and really, he gets it, just for some reasons he feels really… angry. Not at Matsuoka, at the world. And disappointed. He has no idea why, because it makes no sense -- it’s not like Matsuoka would jump into his arms immediately, or agree. That was a stupid thing to suggest. But Haru wants to be with him more. In a literal sense. Matsuoka is hot, simply saying; and also not that bad of a person. He’s cute, in fact. And Haru likes him. As a person, the ‘inside’ person. Because speaking of the outside… Matsuoka’s outside is perfect and Haru wouldn’t even stutter when saying that yeah, the amount of sexual attraction in this case ruins the scale.

“I get it, you don’t have to repeat yourself”, he shrugs, “I just asked. Isn’t it what people do…” He trails off. Something in Matsuoka’s face is weird, weird for someone who was protesting passionately just seconds ago. “I’m sorry”, he adds, to be polite. He’s really disappointed at the moment, but it’s not Matsuoka's fault. His reaction is a normal one. Anyone would react like that.

“Now you’re sorry?”, Matsuoka says, and Haru fights the urge to roll his eyes, “After--”

He fights the urge to roll his eyes, but the one to interrupt is too strong.

“After I said such things, as a colossal pervert, yes. People say sorry after that, I think.” Matsuoka makes an offended face -- which looks a bit endearing, Haru thinks -- and Haru decides to say one more thing. “And don’t repeat everything like that when talking to people. You sound like you actually want me to persuade you more”, he finishes in an informative tone, looking at the ground as if it was the most interesting thing around him.

And then he raises his head, and looks at Matsuoka.

A split second after, Matsuoka lowers his, looking at nothing, eyes wide, as if he was surprised he let himself be manoeuvred like that -- though, to be honest, he kind of walked right into that one, as Nagisa would put it;  he's grasping at the sides of his shirt, forearms crossed, as if he was cold, and his lips were parted slightly.

"That's", Haru says.

Matsuoka looks up, this time probably trying to look rightfully furious, and it would have looked pretty convincing if not the way the colour of his cheeks is a shade, maybe two, warmer than the one of the rest of his face, and his forehead glistening with sweat.  Haru waits, but neither of them says a thing, staring at each other wordlessly. He feels a bit stupid, and that Matsuoka is stupid, but then you have to be, at least a little bit, to post your explicit nudes on the internet and be pretty popular because of that.

“That’s”, he says again, this time a bit more decidedly, and Matsuoka turns into a pillar of salt, “kinda ridiculous, you know.”

Matsuoka gasps, makes an offended sounds, turns around and leaves and it seems he does his best not to stomp angrily.

Haru waits, and it takes Matsuoka only five seconds to realise he forgot his salmon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I've tried.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next day, Haru receives a text.

He’s in the middle of watching a documentary about Titanic and it’s late afternoon, so he thinks it’s probably Nagisa asking him to go out and get some McD -- but it isn’t Nagisa.

It takes him a couple of seconds to realise that the thing on his screen is an address. _It’s pretty nearby_ , he thinks absent-mindedly, and then fully realises. And remembers.

How ridiculously silly and cute was Matsuoka’s embarrassed face, how long his eyelashes were when he blinked (he’d have to ask him if he was in a drama club in high school) and how he somehow managed to turn into an awkward blushing cloud after one compliment (and it wasn’t even a good one, that is – who normally blushes after being told they’re proportional?).

And how it all ended with Matsuoka taking his number and running away, not even forgetting the salmon this time.

 _Just like that?_ , Haru thinks, staring at the screen emptily and wonders what should he do. Take a shower, but that’s obvious. Get something to eat? He has no idea. (A stupid thought passes through his mind, that they probably won’t do food-friendly things there, but he chases it away. Maybe it’s not even Matsuoka but someone else who made a mistake. Maybe there’s a new pizza place that allows you to order via texting. Maybe…)

But his train of thoughts is interrupted by another message that actually clears things out.

_text me when youre coming_

And then, maybe half a minute later at most,

_and when you’re in the building_

And then

_text me overall_

Haru feels his lips stretching in a small smile and puts the phone away -- only to pick it seconds after and quickly send a silly text:

_does that mean you’re not afraid anymore?_

And just as fast as before, he receives a reply.

_im in my battle suit lol_

Haru sighs deeply, wondering if Matsuoka is okay, and looks at the screen of his computer. The documentary is from some educational site. It’s professionally done and detailed and the material must have been recorded by an amazing camera, because the colours of the fish are crisp and saturated and sometimes the closeups make it seem like the camera was inches away from the fish. The fish just swim, and from time to time there’s something written on the bottom of the screen; for the most of the time, though, the picture is enough.

Another thing about this film is that its time of broadcasting is limited, and ends in four hours, so Haru decides to watch it carefully until the end. The problem is, he isn’t really able to focus. And he’s not even a tiny bit happy about it, because he remembers well how he reacted when he read on someone’s blog that they had a chance to go on some popular idol’s concert but decided last minute to have sex with their lover. Haru wasn’t into idols back then, and isn’t now, but even he thought there was something off with that. Something definitely off.

So he makes himself pay attention properly, even if his focus doesn’t center on film but on the colour saturation and angles of the camera -- but at least he’s not thinking about Matsuoka’s long flowing hair, water glistening on his skin or -- or himself, being lured into the sea by a siren, and… probably eaten. Sirens eat people, don’t they? Haru’s fantasy is a bit different from that.

Sighing, he runs a recording software and refreshes the page, calculating that he’d be done with bathing and all that stuff more or less right after the recording would stop. He makes sure the recording has the highest video quality turned on and leaves to the bathroom. Maybe there will be a DVD release in a few months.

When he washes the shampoo out from his hair, he realises it would be probably rude to come two hours later after being invited; not like ‘I should come later, maybe tomorrow’ but ‘I should come as soon as it’s humanly possible’, so he speeds up the process and leaves the shower without even using the conditioner. For a second he wonders, suffering internally a bit, if it wouldn’t be better if he applied it, in the end, and with a sigh, he decides to do it. For some unknown reasons, he wants to look good.

Alright, that’s bullshit, the reasons are very well knows and are all Matsuoka is damn gorgeous, but then, he sort of doubts looks will help with anything when he’s going to be home alone with a person he’s never meet before, but whose nudes he’s been masturbating to for a year. Matsuoka will probably ask him a question and he’ll be thinking about the holy contrast between his dark thigh and that cream garter. Amazing.

He picks the plainest clothes for this weather, an old cream sweater from Makoto and green trousers he’s bought years ago because there was a sale, and tries not to think about the fact those clothes are both really easy to remove. Why would he have to remove anything besides his shoes? It’s not like they would have sex. Even though he could pay real money for it. Who wouldn’t? Of all men he’s been attracted to in his life (the number isn’t really that impressive), Matsuoka is the only one he actively wants to have sex with. He has no idea how, though, because every time he thinks about it, every touch or a position seems like a profanation. In fact, even after realising Matsuoka’s a real, physical being who gets flustered easily, he still can’t help but thinking of him as of some deity and he wonders for a while if that’s how people feel before a date. Even though that is not a date, of course.

He storms out the house before he starts wondering whether he could get rid of his pubic hair.

 

Despite being more or less well-oriented, Haru manages to get lost twice, although he’s proud of the fact it’s not entirely because of him thinking about cock.

The building is old and for a while Haru wonders if Matsuoka didn’t send him a random address to play with him, but then he remembers Matsuoka had told him to send him a text him not only when he was coming, but also nearby in general, and for Haru it seems a waste of time to make up such detailed plots instead of just, for example, moving the blog to an unknown address or never talking to Haru again.

Plus – Haru has a feeling Matsuoka isn’t exactly that kind of person who would play such games.

On the other hand, Matsuoka plays other games, which coincidentally include flashing his privates to thousands of people, all of this while being adorable and hard-working in real life, probably that kind of person people don’t even think has a sex life, and if that’s not a sign of him being completely unpredictable, Haru has no idea what is.

Well then. Here it goes. He won’t find out if he doesn’t try, and while it sounds more like something Rei or Nagisa would say, he has to admit it’s true at this point.

Of course Matsuoka has to live on the last floor and Haru, despite swimming regularly, is out of breath after a minute, and when he stands in front of the door, he feels as if his heart was in his throat, even though that’s supposedly reserved for young people in love.

Well, Haru’s still young, but he’s less in love and more going to record a man masturbate. Then post it online.

Ah, he was supposed to text.

_i’m in_

he texts, and a split second after he realizes it sounds sort of suggestive, he receives a reply.

_i know ive been admiring your shitty condition for a while_

Haru frowns. That was rude.

Matsuoka must have noticed his displeasure through the viewfinder, because what feels like a second later, Haru’s phone vibrates and

_lol_

And then

_politely wait a full minute and then enter. the doors open_

so he does exactly that (having thought, _doors usually do that_ at first, before realising there might be a typo somewhere).

It looks like a student’s flat. It’s not an one room with a tiny bathroom, no; but it’s terribly mismatched, colour-wise. The floor is made of tacky light blue ceramic tiles that look like they belonged in the bathroom, so obviously there’s a uneven rug trying to cover them, but Haru doesn’t understand why on earth it’s brown. The walls, white as if no one had bothered to paint them since the flat was bought (which was probably true), are mostly bare, save for a huge clock (again, out of place – as if its owner stole it from a train station) and an anime calendar.

He wonders if he hadn’t accidentally walked into someone else’s flat and freezes, ready to leave, but he doesn’t get a scolding text – and considering Matsuoka’s texting speed, he could have already gotten at least three – so he decides to give it a try and inspect the flat a bit.

The first room doesn’t even have a door, so assuming it’s a kitchen, he doesn’t bother walking in. Matsuoka wouldn’t do… whatever he wants to do? in a room that’s free for everyone to walk in.

That thought reminds him that having walked in, he didn’t lock the door but rather closed it by normally, and while he doesn’t suspect anyone would just wander around and play with other people’s doors, he guesses it’s not Iwatobi either. He locks the door, feeling only a bit weird, and takes off his shoes, leaving them nearby.

The next room turns out to be a modern bathroom and Haru can’t help but cringe; while the tiles in the rest of flat looked like they belonged in a bathroom, the actual one seems like it tried to be anything else. The tiles on the walls are creamy beige and caramel brown, the toilet seat is pale pink with a sakura petal pattern, and the sink leans slightly forward, hinges loose.

Yes. Definitely a student’s flat.

So that leaves one room.

Haru, with great surprise, realizes he’s nervous.

Which is stupid.

It’s not like he hasn’t envisioned tens of scenarios in his head ever since their meeting, because he has, but in every one of them, it’s Matsuoka that somehow takes the initiative. Pulls him by hand towards bed, sits on his lap, so on. But now, he is the one expected to do something. Walk in and say good afternoon, perhaps.

He shrugs. It’s stupid. Matsuoka flashes his privates on the internet, and he’s too nervous to walk into a stupid room. Ridiculous.

So he decides, furrows his brows to make himself at least look intense, and opens the door.

Matsuoka is naked.

On the bed.

The first body part of his Haru sees is his ass.

 _Okay_ , Haru thinks, and through the initial shock, wonders if he can still back off, but with each second, it becomes less and less likely, until he realized Matsuoka doesn’t acknowledge his arrival.

He’s lying on his stomach, but the upper half of his torso is raised slightly and his shoulders are moving. It’s that kind of movement you wouldn’t notice from afar, small spasms of muscles. He must be doing something on his phone, and judging by the soft sound of his fingertips hitting the screen, it must be a game. He’s either very into it or has earphones in, because even when Haru puts down his backpack, he doesn’t move or give a slightest sign of being aware he’s not alone. He has a thin silver chain bracelet on his ankle and Haru swallows. Even his ankles are somewhat erotic.

 _Okay_ , he thinks again, unsure what else to think, and leans against the wall. He absent-mindedly notices that this room looks way different from all others; there’s a set of lamps in the corner (those lamps Haru thought he’d never see again after having his photo taken for a yearbook in high school) and a small white bookstand with drawers (it doesn’t have books, but Haru isn’t surprised). The walls are just as bare as in other rooms, but they’re also smoother and painted, even the ceiling, pale mint.

The bedding is also mint, but a bit deeper.

 _I’m really here_ , Haru thinks, but he doesn’t have time to truly enjoy the situation, because Matsuoka fucking screams.

Screams triumphally, it seems, as the next thing he does is he laughs and bangs his fists against the bedding (which obviously gives very little sound), but Haru still jumps and almost steps on his backpack. Matsuoka tears out his earphones and tosses them back on the bed, then finally gets up and turns around.

He is in no way surprised or embarrassed by Haru’s presence, but rather amused by how his face must look.

“Sorry”, he says, voice a bit raspy (Haru and his body like it a lot), “heart to heart can suck my ass, though.”

_What???_

“Oh no, you look nice”, Matsuoka continues, in a tone of a pleasant conversation, and it seem he means Haru’s clothes, “You know what, I still gotta grind a bit, so look around and so on, okay? I’ll be done in a sec.”

And picks up his earphones, and turns around again.

Haru is too dumbfounded to think _okay_ again, so he just, in a sense, obliges.

He looks. Maybe not around, but he certainly looks. At Matsuoka.

The room they’re in has no windows, so the only one source of light is a plain, round-shaped lamp on the ceiling, which gives a moderately strong, warm white light. In this light, Matsuoka’s body doesn’t possess this subtle, pastel gentleness of contours – that must be the effect of some smart filter use – instead, everything is very clear and visible. Matsuoka’s muscles are prominent in that miraculous way that’s aesthetically pleasing (and how _much_ ) without looking too much. Haru can’t see this exactly because Matsuoka’s not standing, but his thighs and calves seem a bit stronger than his upper half, which also translates into a delicious behind. Aesthetically pleasing rear. Good butt.

That ass is a godsend.

Haru pulls a camera out of his backpack, and halts. That kind of looks like he’s trying to film Matsuoka while he’s not looking, and even if thoretically it shouldn’t make a difference, since Matsuoka already puts his own one-person porn online, it kind of does, and Haru fiddles with the camera for a while, then turns it on, only to check if everything’s alright.

He takes out the memory card to see if there are any photos on the camera itself, and there are: a few blurry pictures of someone’s hand (presumably Rei’s, presumably taken by Nagisa), a picture of his neighbourhood he has no idea why he’s taken until he realizes there is a small brown dot in the center, supposedly being a cat. Those photos were probably taken in junior high, maybe even earlier.

It’s amazing, really, how they’ve been friends for so long. He’s been with Makoto ever since they’ve been born, then they met Nagisa in primary school, then, in high school, Rei. They signed up for different club activities, chose different careers, but somehow managed to stay in contact and live nearby enough to hang out regularly. Sometimes Haru worries, because there is always this moment when someone says something wrong, or something bad happens, and the group of friends that’s been together since childhood slowly fades into nothing, dearest friends turning into acquaintances, then memories of the past. But so far, nothing like this has happened, and he’s thankful for that.

This aside – he thinks, having put in the memory card back into the slot – they’ve always told each other everything. They knew about Nagisa’s troubles with school and about his first girlfriend (it was hard not to, since he simply arrived at Haru’s doorstep, bawling like a baby, and only after ten minutes of calming him down they’ve managed to understand that Nagisa has been dumped); about Rei’s third boyfriend and his fascinating ability to get from pefectly calm to viciously furious and spitting out curses in five seconds; they all knew that Makoto didn’t like his ears and claimed they were too protruding, and even laughed about it a little, until Rei showed Makoto what should be done to fix this, and suddenly he didn’t mind them that much.

They found out Haru was gay, and were okay with it. They found his porn, and the moment of unrelenting terror lasted for only two minutes.

Haru wonders if they would act just as okay if they found out he was actually, in some way, helping produce said porn.

Who knows.

Probably not.

“What’s that?”

Haru snaps his head up, and almost breaks Matsuoka’s nose; it seems he moved as close as it was humany possible to see what was on the screen of Haru’s camera.

It also seems the room is lighter.

“Oh, so you… finished already”, Haru mutters, having no idea what to say instead. Matsuoka giggles, covering his mouth like a well-behaved young lady, but Haru can see a set of tiny wrinkles on the bridge of his nose. Cute. _Unfair_. What’s so funny in what Haru’s said?

“Show me your settings?”, Matsuoka asks instead of answering, voice quivering weirdly on ‘settings’, as if there was something hilarious in it again, and moved to Haru’s side. Haru was aware of the fact he was naked, but now said nakedness is softly, casually invading his intimate space without any regards of Haru’s (conflicted) body reactions.

He shows him the settings anyway, and explains a bit when Matsuoka makes a face and a stupid comment about the video size (‘It’s not a new camera. Do you want to see the material today or next week?’). Matsuoka nods politely and, seemingly content with the answer, changes the sheets from white to soft peachy pink, ties his hair into a tiny bun at the back of his neck. He stretches – hands above his head, spine arching, joints cracking. It’s both hot and hilarious, as if he was getting ready to do some really tiring physical task.

Oh, wait.

“Righto”, Matsuoka says, and yawns; Haru’s world zeroes on him for a while. Young (it’s not as if Haru’s old, or Matsuoka that much younger than him, if at all, but with his hair pulled aside, his face looks softer, rounder and more vulnerable), fit, he almost wants to use ‘fresh’, even if that means he’s completely lost his mind. Matsuoka is kind of terrifying in a way that’s all opposites; he seems soft and mellow, but somehow alert, lazy movements and calm face, yet toned and strong body. He’s never seen him like that. Sure, Matsuoka in the internet, on photos and gifs had still been Matsuoka, even though Haru didn’t know him, but he was virtual, passive, untouchable. Now he feels both astoundingly real and more unreal than on pictures. Because Haru can touch him. Can, but also somehow can’t.

“We’re doing it, then!”, Matsuoka says, and Haru can only look at him, with what probably is a slightly dumbfounded face. He probably did space out a bit, even if it was only a second, thinking about him. “Okay, but come a bit closer, huh? I’m not gonna eat you.”

 _I wouldn’t mind, though_ , Haru thinks, and immediately curses his own gay ass, but obeys anyway. He walks up to the bed, legs feeling strangely stiff, and stands still, clutching the camera for dear life. Matsuoka looks as unimpressed with himself as he feels.

“Alright, I have no idea if sex is normally this awkward, but you’re certainly making it this way”, Matsuoka says, with a sigh, and softly, but firmly puts his hand on Haru’s crotch.

Um???

Matsuoka rubs his cock, feeling it through the thick material of his trousers (light green, soft, reminding Haru of high school trips), switches between squeezing softly and brushing it lightly with his fingers, barely perceptible.

“Excuse me”, Haru says politely.

Matsuoka replies with a questioning hum, but instead of doing anything – raising his head, stopping, even looking at Haru – he brushes his hair aside, and his right hand joins the left. _He’s left-handed_ , Haru thinks, and then realizes that while his cock still isn’t fully hard, with this kind of treating, it most probably will be in a really short time.

“I’m serious”, he adds sternly.

Matsuoka raises his head to look Haru in the face, expression changing comically from a dreamy smile and sparkling eyes to one of gentle disgust.

“Yes?”

“I thought”, Haru says, and instantly adds, to himself, _and it’s really amazing in that state_ , “I was going to. Uh. Film you.”

The look Matsuoka gives him somehow conveys more than a fifteen minutes long tirade would.

“So essentially what you’re saying is”, Matsuoka starts, slowly and quietly, and Haru thinks this is what tranquil fury looks like; not going to shout at you, not going to hit you, just endless calm and silence until one day you’re found with a knife up your nose; “that you don’t want to fuck me?”

Oh. Oh. Um.

“Well”, he breathes out, “So that is to say–”

“Yes”, Matsuoka says, this time louder, and smiles softly in a vaguely threatening way, “or no?”

Haru is stunned. For a while, because Matsuoka’s eyes are really nice and really piercing.

“No”, he stutters in the end, “I mean, yes, as in– yes. I was just surprised.”

The eyes look at him. Then close. Matsuoka falls back on the bed and puts his palms together, as if he’s praying to all gods existing, looking softly at the ceiling.

“And here I thought”, he breathes out, “that you would maybe react accordingly, for example, throw me on the bed, or something like that–”

“I think that only happens in porn”, Haru says, then feels like dying.

Matsuoka raises his head only to give him an accordingly disgusted look. Haru, for once, agrees; if Nagisa was there, he’d die of absurd-induced joy.

“I mean apologies, if you want, but that was unexpected”, he says, shrugging. He is fully hard now. “Even though I can’t say I’ve never thought of it”, he adds.

Matsuoka whines suddenly, curling in himself like a shrimp in a stir-fry mix on the frying pan, covering his face with hands, and Haru thoroughly enjoys this sound.

“Just tell me I’m _hot_ ”, he breathes out, sitting up; voice strangely similar to the panicked, angry tone from the day before, and Haru thinks, and probably says, _huh_ , “It’s been fucking _ten_ minutes, fucking _ten minutes_ you’ve been here and I have _no idea_ if you even like my ass, you didn’t even bat a shitting eye when you saw me literally fucking naked, do you know how frustrating it is?!”

“You are hot”, Haru says, because he’s a good, kind-hearted person.

“Really?”, Matsuoka says, and he sounds so much like a hopeful child that Haru feels really tired all of sudden, “I absolutely can’t read you. I have no idea what you’re thinking.”

 _You’re either blind or stupid, then_ , Haru thinks, but he doesn’t say it, because he’s a good, etc.

“Really”, is what he says instead.

“And”, Matsuoka says, now weirdly stiff for some reason, and Haru suspects that with this, Matsuoka leaves him a gap to fill, like on a test paper.

“And I masturbate to your content, if that’s a good thing to say”, he adds.

“It is. Exquisite”, Matsuoka nods, sighs. “What else?”

 _What else, oh god, what else, I_ really _want to touch you_.

Haru clears his throat. He was never afraid to say ‘penis’ in grade school, so he shouldn’t have difficulties speaking now, in a very penis-y environment. “Sometimes I think about you. Sexually. But usually it’s me doing all the work, you just… lie and look pretty”, he says, and because he vaguely feels there might be something disrespectful in the last sentence, he adds, “Because I didn’t know how your face looks like. So I only focused on your body.”

Matsuoka looks at him intensely, switching to a cross-legged position, hands resting on his knees. “You must have focused really hard if you managed to recognize me basing solely on that.”

“I draw”, Haru explains, “and you could say I have a good eye for shapes.You’re full of curves. And as I said, you’re very proportional.”

“Huh”, Matsuoka says, reddening just like yesterday. He stares at his hands for maybe two seconds, as if he was considering something.

“And now that you know how my face looks like, how is it?”

Tricky question.

“Good”, Haru says, but he doesn’t even need to see Matsuoka’s face to know it wouldn’t be enough for him. Maybe Matsuoka likes to pretend he’s cool and collected, but it’s obvious that he’s easily embarrassed, childish and really, really high-maintenance. He sighs. “I guess you’re cute.”

Matsuoka reaction is predictable – he lowers his head, eyelashes fluttering. He raises his left hand and makes a motion as if he wanted to brush the hair at his nape with his fingers, like it was a kind of a nervous tic, but it seems he forgot that he’s tied it. His hands hovers in midair with no purpose and he blinks a few times.

 _If it was Nagisa in my place_ , Haru thinks, _he’d have a ball of his life_. Matsuoka is absolutely comical.

Matsuoka clears his throat. “Acceptable”, he says dryly, like he was a stern teacher and Haru just barely managed to get the answer right. He sighs, but it sounds more like he was blowing on something. “Now, are you going to undress, or…?”

Haru clicks his tongue. Matsuoka has been very cute and so on, but also he’s been keeping Haru in an uncommon sitation. He’s not a prude, he can discuss sexuality (it’s just no one in his group of friends feels the need to), but right now, he’s standing in front of someone really attractive, and that someone is naked, and that someone first seemed very casual about sex, even going as far as touching him, just like that, then started stuttering and blushing because Haru said something nice, something that was asked of him. It’s confusing, it’s irritating, and Haru likes to have things laid out clearly.

“Now _you’re_ making it awkward”, he points out, stopping himself from adding _and I am supposed to be the virgin here_ , “Maybe it’s you who doesn’t want it? You’re not even hard.”

Bam! Spectacular delivery.

Except Matsuoka says literally the dumbest thing he could have said at this moment.

“Then make me.”

Haru freezes. Matsuoka shrugs, and now there’s a somewhat provocative glint in his eye. Haru’s never seen someone who changes moods so often.

Matsuoka crosses his arms proudly, like he’s just issued a challenge no one can take up – and that’s it.

“Fine”, Haru says, because honestly, it’s fine. If Matsuoka can’t decide whether to act like an adult or a child, Haru is going to help him with that.

“Fine”, he repeats, setting the camera away on the bed, and sits on it next to Matsuoka. That idiot is grinning up at him, face resting on his palms like he was observing a very funny show, and Haru feels something heat up inside.

He says the third ‘Fine’ in his head (he suspects if he says it out loud, Matsuoka will laugh at him) and sternly, with a determined face, places his palms on Matsuoka’s cheeks. Okay. Now, the rest should be easy. It’s just a kiss. Not much, but even he can do that. (He hopes so.)

Matsuoka’s grin widens even more, eyes squeezing shut and nose scrunching when he giggles, but his expression softens when Haru is close enough for their noses to touch – and then he ruins Haru’s moment of fame, kissing him first.

Actually, Haru has never kissed anyone before. He assumed he just wasn’t interested; there were people who just didn’t get married and instead, lived to devote their life to art, or the cause, whatever it was. Then Haru figured it out, realized that it wasn’t that he wasn’t interested at all, but rather he wasn’t interested in girls – boys were something else. Still, since he wasn’t the one to walk up to someone and start a relationship, or go to parties, it just never happened. Not even on a dare. But Haru guessed it was alright. He could live without that. And besides, it was just kinda touching lips. Nothing that fascinating.

Now that it’s happening, Haru can admit: it is absolutely touching lips, and it is absolutely fascinating how – it’s just skin touching, literally skin, so why does this happen – it’s as if someone did that trick with matches in his chest. The one where you light one match, then touch the burning tip to the rest of matches in the box. At first it’s a small fire, but then it’s a fire that burns bright and strong, and also your hand.

So there’s either a fire in Haru’s chest, or his nipples are hard. Either or. Or both.

Matsuoka takes Haru’s hands away from his cheeks and puts them – instead – on his waist, placing his own hands on Haru’s shoulders, leaning into him slightly. Haru briefly thinks they will have to move a bit, otherwise he’ll fall off the bed, but there are better things to think about, for example how Matsuoka is gentle, but still leads the kiss, and how soft and teasing he is when he pulls Haru’s lower lip with his teeth (that kind of feeling you have to deepen, or you’ll go crazy), or how soft his skin is under his palms, and how his waist is thinner, and hips wider, and while it’s proper anatomy, somehow it feels outstanding, and Haru can’t help moving his hands, exploring, finding those – yes – back dimples, and below–

“Is that all?”, Matsuoka mutters against his lips, and Haru has no idea whether he means his moderately interesting kissing technique or the hands on his ass. “Open up.”

Haru’s mind flicks to that joke, with the dentist, he’s only recently understood, because his knowledge of English was limited and generally he preferred the Japanese side of the internet, but some people he followed also posted stuff in English--

but he has no time to ponder on that, because Matsuoka doesn’t wait for him to open his (dumbfounded) mouth and does it himself, with one swipe of tongue between his upper and lower lip, and suddenly Haru realizes, with all consequences, what is a French kiss.

 _This_ is a French kiss.

(And now: he watches porn. Regularly. Someone who only saw him a few times could say he looks like one of those timid, quiet boys who are polite to elders, hold the door for girls, are generally harmless and have a killer sex drive. Or so he thinks; since neither his friends from Iwatobi nor his friends from the university don’t talk to him about their sex drive. Whether it’s astoundingly often or depressingly seldom, he masturbates once, sometimes twice a day. Usually at night in the shower, when Makoto is asleep. He sets off the shower, the stream of water strong enough to drown out eventual noises, even though he’s normally very quiet, then he looks something good up on his phone, and masturbates with earphones on. Probably most people do it without the earphones, but Haru’s realized he prefers to hear the sounds without sharing them with Makoto. A personal preference.

The thing is: the moment when the actors start kissing in a more concrete way is always a good indicator of how good the video is going to be. The best vids have them going at it passionately, hot, open-mouthed kisses, tongues and teeth visible to the merry audience, so on. That was the good content. And – as far as Haru finds the noises absolutely arousing, he was never sure if he’d like it on himself. While he is obviously aware that human tongue is warm, he always imagines the kiss itself as cold and slimy, like eating cold, overcooked pasta. Gross, gross, gross.)

It’s not gross. It’s amazing, and just like Haru’s underwear, it’s very wet. Matsuoka circles his tongue with his own and Haru’s soul descends to hell; he wants it, he wants more of it. Technically it shouldn’t be so arousing, it’s just skin, flesh, it’s not beautiful. But no, he was wrong, to an extent, it is gross, the way there’s so much saliva, it’s so unhygienic Rei would cry, but maybe that’s why it’s so good; the way Matsuoka sucks on his tongue like he had a greater purpose. Normal people don’t suck on each other’s tongues. Do they? Matsuoka does it, at this moment, right now, and it’s exhilarating, it’s wet and slippery, and there are noises, and Matsuoka’s teeth but in a nice way, but it’s all warm, warm all over, and Haru’s head is slightly spinning, and he feels a bit tired in this aroused-tired way, so he closes his eyes, and his hands, as if automatically, pull Matsuoka closer.

And that’s when it’s over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for now, see you next year!! xoxo
> 
> JUST KIDDING. I actually have almost 20 pages, and they're _still_ not fucking, so I figured out that instead of stressing, I'll just cut the thing in half and post the first half. I'm sorry, I wish I was better at this fanfiction author stuff.
> 
> For those interested, the list of my distractions includes llsif (aqours!), star wars (FINNREY), riko sakurauchi and FINALS!! Yes, I have graduated high school! I passed all my exams, but I only got into my second-choice course (English). Sincere apologies to everyone who remembers about this fic, sob.) Wish me luck...? Ah, but it also means even more delays in fics, since uni stuff is apparently serious stuff. I will try to write something from time to time! I still love harurin with all my heart, please don't forget me.


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